


morning, sweet prince

by aambrosial



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types, Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Fluff, Gay, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of Sex, and vice versa with horatio, hamlet is very in love with horatio, its just morning fluff, m/m - Freeform, modern-ish AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 11:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18498001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aambrosial/pseuds/aambrosial
Summary: they wake up and fell in love again(and nobody can see but them)





	morning, sweet prince

**Author's Note:**

> written originally for hamdeny on Tumblr because they're beautiful
> 
> this is really fucking short mainly because I wrote it originally at like 1 am and really tired, then didn't like how I didn't add a but about horatio so yeah here

Dawn light seeps in through the thick velvet curtains. Hamlet lies awake, barely, connecting the freckles on his back. It’s not fair; he thinks; that someone so beautiful can exist. Blankets cover the bed, boots and jumpers and jeans are discarded on the wood floor. Books line the bottom of the bed, where they were studying before Hamlet’s desires got the better of him. Again. 

There’s a sense of ease between the two boys, as the other stirs slightly. He lowers himself from the position he had; lifted over Horatio to reach the mole on his left shoulder, and pulls the duvet back up and over them as he whimpers slightly at the lack of warmth beside him. Hamlet smiles. His love is truly a light in the morning, the one flower that grows in this hard world. But enough of that. For now, he allows himself to slide back underneath the covers, and return to dreaming in the arms of his Horatio. 

Horatio sighs at the sight of him, slipping back into the castle of pillows they have made to shield themselves from the world. He drops his hand, moving from his back to the line of freckles across his face. He connects the constellations with heavy eyes and parted lips, attempting to kiss every one. 

Oh, this is what he lives for, these stolen mornings, secret hours where they can truly be. It’s not fair; Horatio thinks; that someone so fair, so blessed could stoop and pick him of all people. Hamlet would tell him it’s the other way around...

But enough of that. For now, he pulls his prince forwards and kisses him within an inch of his life. 

There are birds singing outside.


End file.
